


Geoduck & Alternate Realities

by RaeDMagdon



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Fingering, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Angst, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Season 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Waverly and Nicole have been through a lot post S2, so they head out for a date in the big city. Together, they start to process everything they've lost, in addition to celebrating everything they've found.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be three chapters long. Each chapter is based on a prompt I received in my tumblr inbox:
> 
> 1\. Wayhaught after the second season finale processing the alternate universe, the loss of Alice, and learning that Jeremy calls them “wayhaught”
> 
> 2\. Nicole is such a buttoned up gentleman which makes Waverly swoon obvi but sometimes she wishes Nic would let loose. She pushes Nic to be more risqué, make out in public, etc,?maybe culminating in them going to a very fancy restaurant in a nearby city and Nicole finger fucking Waverly throughout dinner under the table
> 
> 3\. I dunno if you are still taking prompts for smutcation or if this is the proper format (sorry, newish follower) but if you'd be down I'd love some sweet, tender, feelsy Wayhaught lovin', with some two-way body worship?
> 
> Be sure to follow me @raedmagdon if you enjoy my fics.

“You didn’t have to bring me here, baby.”

Nicole chews her lower lip, curling her toes in her boots as she questions herself. Had it been a good idea to bring Waverly here, to the city where she used to work instead of the tiny town she has grown to love despite its problems? She isn’t sure. She isn’t sure about a lot of things, actually. But Waverly? Waverly is the one thing she’s sure of right now. And WayHaught, as Jeremy calls them these days. She’s sure about that, too.

“I wanted to. It’s been…  _ a lot _ lately,” Nicole says, reaching impulsively for Waverly’s hand. She laces their fingers together, admiring the way the soft streetlights outside the restaurant hit Waverly’s soft face. ‘My angel’, Bobo had called her. Nicole knows he hadn’t meant it in a sexual way — at least, she hopes not — but something about it still flips her jealousy switch. Maybe because sometimes, it almost looks true, in certain illuminations.

Waverly squeezes Nicole’s fingers, bringing her back to the present. “Yeah, it has.”

That’s just the problem. Fighting supernatural forces of evil, protecting the town, Waverly getting possessed, her getting divorced (after being poisoned by Widow-Mercedes and almost dying)... ‘A lot’ is just about the only phrase that comes close to covering it all, and that isn’t even counting the time they’d fallen in love, then died together in a dream that amounted to an alternate dimension.

Then there’s Alice. Waverly’s niece. The baby they had handed to over to Perry, with the expectation that he would take her to Waverly and Wynonna’s Aunt Gus. That sacrifice had been heartbreaking for Wynonna, of course, but Waverly had felt the loss too. Nicole could tell. She sees it in Waverly’s eyes all the time, which are a little less bright than they should be now that things are safe.

But things aren’t safe. They’re in the eye of a brewing storm. Things will get worse before they truly get better.

_ That’s why we’re here, _ Nicole reminds herself.  _ To have one night for… us. Away from that. Before it’s too late. _ (She wishes her brain hadn’t added that last part.)

“I’m just saying,” Nicole murmurs, cupping her other hand around Waverly’s and bringing it to her lips. “Both of us are tired. We’re scared. But we’re together.” She brushes her lips gently over Waverly’s knuckles. “I wanted to celebrate that somewhere other than Purgatory, you know?”

Waverly offers a faint smile. “Yup. I know.”

Nicole’s eyes dart over to the window of the restaurant. There are people inside, laughing and talking like the world isn’t about to end any day now. She isn’t sure whether the queasy feeling in her stomach is hope or envy.  _ I’ll make it hope, _ she decides.  _ And more importantly, I’m not going to let a bunch of demons and revenants stop me from having a date with the woman I love. _

“Do you want to go in?” she asks, searching Waverly’s face for any signs of hesitation.

Waverly’s smile gets a little bigger. “It’s a sushi place with a drink menu as big as the regular menu. Plus, my favorite girl is with me. Why  _ wouldn’t _ I wanna go in?”

“How do you know about their drink menu?” Nicole chuckles.

“I looked it up online. Did you know that, anthropologically speaking, women were the first brewmasters?”

Nicole tilts her head, preparing for another Waverly infodump. She never minds them — in fact, they’re adorable — but tonight, she’s a bit too lost in her own head to follow along. She forces herself to tune back in.

“...and it’s only in the past one hundred and fifty years that — Nicole, are you okay?”

She blinks. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s a little cold out here.”

“Oh. Do you want my coat?”

Nicole starts to laugh and say no.  _ She’s _ supposed to be, well… not the gentleman, since they’re both women, but the chivalrous one in this relationship. But it’s an adorable offer, so she shrugs and says, “I’ll take your scarf if it’ll make you happy.”

Waverly begins unwinding her very thick knitted scarf from around her neck. “Good, ‘cuz your ears are turning the same color as your hair.” She drapes it around Nicole’s neck, and when she tugs, Nicole leans down into a kiss. It’s soft, appropriate for the public street, but it’s also very warm and comforting.

They head into the restaurant hand in hand, with the scarf wound loosely atop Nicole’s shoulders.

***

It feels good to sit at a normal table in a normal restaurant, eating normal food without worrying a revenant, a widow, or something worse will burst through the door.

Waverly hadn’t realized just how heavy the burden of constant fear was until she managed to set it aside for a few seconds. Now, she feels somewhere close to floating, kind of like her last trip to the dentist when she inhaled a little too much laughing gas. Her fluttery heart is rising from her chest into her throat, opening them up, and for the first time in a long time, she feels like she can breathe.

“This drink,” Waverly says, setting her glass back on the table a little too forcefully and making the heavy glass thunk on top of the wood, “is  _ really _ flipping good.”

Nicole smiles, reaching out to take the glass from her. “May I?” she asks, and Waverly nods permission. Nicole takes a sip, then makes an approving face, lips slightly pursed. “Hey, it is good. I’m not much for Bellinis, but…”

Waverly snorts, but she’s too far gone to be embarrassed about the mildly obnoxious noise. (It’s kind of hard to care about things like that when your girlfriend almost died, but didn’t because you betrayed all of your friends and helped an evil demon rise from his tomb.)

“I’m not either.”

“Then why’d you get one?”

Waverly takes another sip of the drink, wincing a little as the cold slush hits her soft palette. “Ohh. Ouch. Brain freeze, hold on.” She screws up her face and presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth until it passes. “Okay, sorry. I guess I ordered it because it’s something different.”

“And you don’t know how much time is left for adventures.”

The somber tone in Nicole’s voice is more surprising than the fact that she’s read Waverly’s mind. They’ve been closer to each other these days.  _ Fighting and making up and almost biting the dust too many times to count can do that to a couple,  _ Waverly supposes.

“That’s right. I guess I want to have some while I can.”

Instead of continuing down the path of melancholy, Nicole nods. “Me too.”

“Really?” Waverly asks. She’d felt the pressure beginning to crush her chest once more, but with those two words, Nicole has banished it again. The idea of still having adventures, adventures with Nicole, in spite of everything has Waverly feeling better than she has in weeks.

“Of course. Why do you think I brought you here?”

Waverly arches a brow. “Not because of the numerous cheap drinks, then?”

Nicole shakes her head. “Nope. And there’s a reason the waiter didn’t take our order.”

Now that Waverly thinks about it, that was kind of weird. He’d only asked for their drink orders before disappearing again, and he’s been gone an awfully long time. “Oh.  _ Oh. _ You called ahead, didn’t you?”

A grin spreads across Nicole’s face. “Yup. And guess what you’re getting.”

Waverly tries to recall the dishes she’d seen on the online menu, but she’d been more focused on the drink specials at the time, and she can’t remember. Then, it hits her through the alcohol. “Geoduck!”

Her guess is proven right when the waiter arrives, not with his notebook, but with a steaming tray of food. Waverly inhales deeply, but the smell isn’t that exceptional, mostly a mildly briny, generic seafood scent. It’s a little disappointing, having the meat chopped up into tiny square pieces instead of having it hanging directly out of the clam. If she’s going to eat something that looks like a gigantic hippopotamus penis, she might as well go all out.

When she takes her first bite, however, it’s anything but disappointing. The meat is sweet and clear, even though it’s mostly raw. There’s a definite seafood taste, but it isn’t overpowering — it’s crisper than fish. She eats another piece, then another, moaning in surprise and satisfaction.

“That good, huh?” Nicole asks.

“Mmhmm!”

“Should I try some?”

Waverly nods, nudging the plate a few inches across the table. Nicole spears a piece and pops it in her mouth. Her brow furrows, but then she smiles and chews. “Mm.”

“Yummy, right?”

Nicole swallows. “Yep. It’s yummy.”

“So you and it have something in common.”

Nicole looks flustered at first, but soon, she’s snickering into her hand. “Waverly Earp, you’re too much.”

Waverly sets her fork aside, reaching for her drink. “Or am I just enough?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter of three. This one is based on the prompt:
> 
> Smuttycation! For Wayhaught - Nicole is such a buttoned up gentleman which makes Waverly swoon obvi but sometimes she wishes Nic would let loose. She pushes Nic to be more risqué, make out in public, etc,?maybe culminating in them going to a very fancy restaurant in a nearby city and Nicole finger fucking Waverly throughout dinner under the table.

It might be the drinks flowing, but to Nicole’s ears, Waverly’s laugh sounds more beautiful than ever. Pure and genuine, it fills Nicole’s heart to the brim. This is exactly what she’d hoped to see tonight: Waverly, her girlfriend, relaxing and enjoying herself for the first time in a long time. It’s exactly the type of moment she had been so afraid of missing while lying in a hospital bed, with painful shudders shooting through her body thanks to Widow-Mercedes’ poison.

_ Hard to believe it was only a couple of days ago... _

“Do you believe in fate?” Waverly asks, swaying just a little in her seated position. She’s tipsy, Nicole can tell, but not so drunk she’ll regret it in the morning.

“Because of the alternate reality, you mean?”

“You have to admit it’s romanti- _ hic— _ ” Waverly covers her mouth with her hand, sheepishly raising her shoulders. “Sorry.”

Nicole reaches across the table, nudging Waverly’s water closer. “Uh-oh. Not this again.”

Waverly takes a long drink, then hiccups again. “It’s not—I’m not…”

“You’re not getting hiccups that will take at least an hour to go away?”

Waverly shakes her head. “Nope. Definitely not.” Nicole raises her eyebrows, waiting expectantly. She isn’t disappointed. Waverly hiccups again, then groans, rolling her eyes. “Oh, fudgenuggets.”

“You know, you’ve never told me why you don’t swear,” Nicole says. “It’s cute but—”

“I think you mean— _ hic— _ polite.”

“But you have to admit, it’s a little odd.”

“You— _ hic— _ have to answer my question first. Do you believe in fate?” Waverly grins, wagging her eyebrows.  _ “Soulmates?” _

A furrow creases Nicole’s forehead. It’s one of those questions she’s tried to avoid thinking about, but that’s been difficult. If soulmates do exist, and Waverly is hers…  _ It feels different with her than with Shae. She was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of, and then the high wore off. But Waves… _

Nicole finds it frighteningly easy to admit to herself that she needs Waverly like she needs oxygen to breathe. It’s not an addiction. It’s something so fundamental that she isn’t sure what she’ll do without it. Without Waverly.  _ And that’s the scary part. If soulmates exist, and she’s mine, what happens if one of us… _

“You’re not answering,” Waverly says. Her hiccups are gone, and she sounds disappointed.

“It’s a serious question,” Nicole murmurs. She picks at her remaining food with her fork, but doesn’t bring any of it to her mouth. “It’s not that I don’t want to be your soulmate. It’s just that, if we are…”

Understanding dawns on Waverly’s face. “Oh.” Then, she frowns. “Oh…” An awkward silence stretches between them, but finally, Waverly says, “You know what, Nicole?” Her voice is softer, more somber. “I’d rather have a soulmate for any length of time than not have one at all.”

Nicole smiles.  _ Leave it to drunk Waverly to know the right thing to say. _ She reaches across the table again, resting her hand on top of Waverly’s. “I think that’s what I would rather have, too.”

Waverly leans forward, eyes half-lidded, and Nicole meets her in the middle of the table for a kiss. It’s quick, since they’re in public — or, at least, she’d meant for it to be quick. But instead, their lips linger, and Nicole realizes she doesn’t want to pull away.

Back in Purgatory, she tries to be professional around Waverly. She’s always on duty in some capacity, and it’s just not right to make out with her girlfriend when she’s supposed to be protecting the people of her new hometown.

But. They aren’t in Purgatory right now. There aren’t any demons waiting around the corner. Neither of them is dying. They’re alive, in a restaurant in a city where nobody knows them, in a place where they have no other obligations, at least for tonight.

Nicole allows herself to relax. When Waverly’s tongue brushes her lower lip, she doesn’t object. In fact, she opens wider, allowing Waverly more access to her mouth…

The sound of a clearing throat shatters the moment. She jerks back, giving the waiter an embarrassed grin.

“Would either of you ladies like to look at our dessert menu?”

Nicole shares a glance with Waverly, one that’s hungry in multiple ways. “You know? I think we would.”

The waiter takes their plates away, and Nicole lets out a gasp as something warm strokes her ankle. It’s Waverly’s foot, which has slipped out of its shoe to trail up her leg. Nicole has to stifle a giggle as Waverly’s toes tickle her calf, but the noises she’s swallowing soon become something else. For some reason, the contact is kind of… arousing?

“So, um.” Waverly bats her eyes, patting the booth seat next to her. “Want to come over here for a bit and look at the menu with me? There’s only one, and there’s no reason we  _ have _ to sit on opposite sides of the table…”

Nicole braces herself for an inner debate, but to her surprise, the usual objections her brain spouts off at her don’t come. She isn’t on duty. She’s on a date with her girlfriend —  _ correction, your soulmate. After everything we’ve been through, don’t we deserve this? _

“Sure,” she says, getting up from her seat and sliding into Waverly’s side of the booth.

***

Waverly shivers as Nicole scoots close beside her. Heat spreads between their thighs, and an answering heat coils in Waverly’s lower belly. She can pick up Nicole’s scent, the cucumber melon of her shampoo and the faint smell of her detergent. It’s sweet and familiar, but the fact that Nicole is comfortable with such a public display of affection has Waverly’s pulse racing.

Nicole isn’t usually like this. She always makes time for the two of them to be intimate, and she definitely isn’t closeted, but she  _ is _ extremely professional. She has an image to uphold as an officer of the law, and she places a lot of importance on it. But tonight, she seems unusually comfortable with public displays of affection, and Waverly can’t help wondering,  _ Well, just  _ how _ comfortable? _

There are still lots of adventures she hasn’t had, and this seems like the perfect opportunity to cross another one off the list.

Waverly takes Nicole’s right hand in her left, drawing it into her lap. Nicole’s quiet breathing shakes a little, but she makes no effort to withdraw. Just in case, Waverly looks into Nicole’s eyes, checking for any signs of hesitance. There’s some nervousness, but also excitement, and desire — desire Waverly hasn’t seen from her that much in the past few days. They made love once after the defeat of the Widows, but it was more emotion than lust. They’d needed to be close to each other, to reaffirm their bond, to purge their grief and share their gratitude at being alive.

This is different. It’s tingly and exciting and dangerous, and Waverly’s hammering heartbeat grows louder in her ears as she draws Nicole’s hand further up her leg.

“Waves…”

“What?” Waverly asks, opening the dessert menu with her free hand. “I’m just trying to decide what I want.” But she knows exactly what she wants, and she proves it by guiding Nicole’s hand between her legs. The leggings she’s wearing are thick for the cold temperature, but not so thick that she can’t feel the instinctive squeeze Nicole gives — without any more encouragement from her.

“Baby,” Nicole whispers, her voice low and hoarse. She sounds uncertain, but also hopeful. Waverly would be the first to admit she isn’t always great at reading other people, but she’s getting pretty clear signals on this one, and she and Nicole have grown a lot closer lately.

_ She’s into this, but she’s nervous. Maybe if I… _

Even though her brain is a little foggy with alcohol, her cleverness hasn’t entirely deserted her. She lets go of the menu and Nicole’s hand — which doesn’t retreat, she notes with some pride — and unwinds the scarf she loaned Nicole earlier in the evening. “Here,” she murmurs, draping it over their laps. Fortunately, it’s oversized and thick, big enough to cover both their thighs.

A grin spreads across Nicole’s face. “So, that menu,” she says, trying to sound casual. “Anything look good?”

Waverly licks her lips, but she isn’t looking at the menu anymore. “Everything seems delicious.”

Nicole swallows visibly. Her hand moves beneath the scarf, simply pressing in at first. Waverly’s breath hitches through her growing grin. The circular, massaging motion Nicole is using has her belly quivering with need, and her panties are starting to feel sticky. It would almost be uncomfortable, if it didn’t also feel so good.

“The mochi ice cream looks pretty good,” Waverly says. “Or the lava cake.”

“Guess you have a sweet tooth tonight.”

Nicole’s fingertips dip under the waistband of Waverly’s leggings and slides into her panties, brushing through her wetness. The contact is twice as intense without barriers, and Waverly can’t hide her moan. Her lashes flutter, and her face burns as Nicole’s fingers slide on either side of her clit, massaging the root through its hood.

The floaty feeling Waverly had felt before returns with a vengeance. It’s not the alcohol. It’s not even the relief of being alive. It’s simply that she loves Nicole, loves being with Nicole, especially when Nicole is touching her like this.

“Excuse me, ladies?”

The waiter’s voice almost gives Waverly a heart attack. She hadn’t even noticed him returning to their table. Her eyes snap open, and she almost chokes on her own tongue. “Y—yes? Sorry!”

“Oh, sorry to startle you. I was just wondering if you’d decided anything about dessert?”

To Waverly’s shock (and relief), Nicole plays everything cool. Nicole has plenty of awkward moments, but this doesn’t seem to be one of them. “Yeah. We’ll take some red bean mochi ice cream, to split.”

The waiter writes down their order and departs with a smile.

Suddenly, Waverly can breathe again. “Shiitake mushrooms. I’m sorry. We don’t have to keep going if you—ohh…”

A ripple of pleasure courses through Waverly’s body as Nicole’s fingers abandon her clit, teasing her entrance instead. They spread her slickness around at first, but slowly, they begin to push inside, first one, then two. “No. Let’s stick around for dessert. I figure you aren’t full enough yet.”

Waverly feels herself melting from the inside out. Nicole has always been an amazing lover, especially in comparison with her other experiences. (Her previous partners, all men, have been clueless at best and inconsiderate at worst.) But this? It’s not just sweet and tender, or even hot and heavy. It’s risky, and  _ sexy _ , and Waverly is worried she’ll come all over herself in a matter of seconds.

“Nicole, baby…”

Nicole doesn’t make things any easier. Her fingers move faster, and Waverly starts trembling. She digs her teeth into her bottom lip, holding back a squeak of surprise. Nicole’s fingers are curling wickedly against her front wall, hitting a spot that makes her swell with pressure.

“It’s okay, Waves,” Nicole murmurs into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

That reassurance is all Waverly needs. She comes in utter silence, mouth hanging open, every muscle in her body locked up tight. When the first ripples of pleasure hit, she relaxes, bucking forward into the heel of Nicole’s hand. She doesn’t care if she looks strange, or if someone might notice. (In fact, that’s part of the thrill.) Nicole has her, so it’s safe to fly.

The angle of Nicole’s fingers, whether intentional or a result of being side by side in the booth, is somehow perfect. With each stirring motion Nicole makes, Waverly feels her own body respond with a rush of slippery wetness. It’s not enough to flood the seat of the booth, but it does coat Nicole’s palm, and some slips past to dampen Waverly’s underwear and the middle of her leggings.

_ Oh no. There’s gonna be a mess. Darn it, Waverly, you have the  _ worst _ ideas! _

But the self-reprimand in Waverly’s head doesn’t have any bite to it. She grins instead, sagging back in her seat with a long, satisfied sigh. Nicole is studying her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction — and Waverly can tell her girlfriend is pleased with what she sees when her lips twitch into a smug smile.

“You okay?”

Waverly twitches as a few more aftershocks course through her. “Uhh… best dessert ever.”

“Oh crap.”

Nicole’s hand withdraws quickly, far too soon for Waverly’s liking. She squeezes her thighs together to make up for the loss, then notices the reason: their waiter is coming back with a bowl of mochi red bean ice cream. Waverly had completely forgotten about the order, thanks to Nicole’s distraction.

Discreetly, Nicole wipes her fingers on the scarf, then tucks it around Waverly’s thighs and reaches for a napkin as well. “Thanks,” she says as the waiter sets their dessert on the table, alongside the usual black folder of the bill.

“No rush,” the waiter says, with a smile that Waverly can’t decipher.

_ Does he know? Or is he just being friendly? _

“Thanks,” Waverly says, realizing too late that she should have adjusted her volume downward. (It was a miracle she’d managed to stay silent while coming.)

The waiter departs, leaving the two of them alone again.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asks, completely ignoring the ice cream.

Even Waverly, who is usually the first one to dig into dessert, pauses to kiss the point of Nicole’s chin. “Are you kidding? I’m  _ amazing. _ ” Her stomach rumbles. “And… still kinda hungry.”

Nicole laughs, pushing the bowl toward her. “Then dig in.”

“I’d love to, but, uh…” She glances around the restaurant, looking for an escape route. “I think I need to visit the bathroom. To clean up.”

“Want me to come with you?” Nicole’s cheeks turn red as she seems to realize the implications. “Just to clean up.”

“I think one at a time,” Waverly says. “But, you know… we could continue our adventure at home?”

Nicole’s beaming smile is so big that it seems to glow. “Anytime, anywhere, as long as it’s with you, Waverly Earp.”


	3. Chapter 3

They end up booking a hotel instead of driving home. It’s Waverly who suggests they stay the night in the city, but Nicole doesn’t object. After all, the fact that Waverly is able to exist outside of Purgatory at all is something to be celebrated. They force smiles at the bored clerk, clasping each other’s hands tight as they endure the slow clacking sound of his typing.

“Two beds?” he asks, predictably.

“Just the one, please.” As she answers, Nicole resists the temptation to glance sideways at Waverly. Her face is hot enough as it is. They’ve bonded deeply, thanks to enduring more than their fair share of trials, but their relationship is still new and exciting. That includes the sexual parts.

Once the clerk gives them their keycards, they stumble onto the elevator, dizzy on a cocktail of alcohol and relief. Nicole can’t remember the last time her chest has felt this light. Her limbs tingle with unspent energy, and she’s close to laughing for no reason at all.

Waverly, who’s a little bit drunker than she is, and a little bit bolder too,  _ does _ laugh as the elevator doors close and they begin their ascent. She leans forward, backing Nicole into the wall and standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss on her lips.

It starts out closed-mouthed, but doesn’t stay that way for long. Nicole can’t help but brush her tongue along Waverly’s lower lip, and she can’t help pushing inside when Waverly moans and opens for her.

Warm kisses become even hotter touches. By the time the ding interrupts them, Nicole realizes her hand is half way up Waverly’s leg, which has somehow migrated around her waist. She withdraws her mouth, but Waverly only laughs again, tightening her calf beneath Nicole’s backside to try and keep her close.

Only the thought of peeling Waverly out of her clothes and throwing her onto an actual bed convinces Nicole that patience is a good idea. She drags Waverly out of the elevator, ignoring the greedy hands that squeeze her ass, and stumbles down the hall in search of their room.

It takes a few tries to get the stupid keycard to work, but at last, the light flashes green and the door clicks open. Nicole doesn’t mind the sterile smell, or the rattling AC unit that’s turned up too high. She’s got Waverly’s perfume in her nose, and Waverly’s body to keep her warm. She slides both hands under Waverly’s ass and hitches her up, carrying her over to the queen sized bed in a few brisk strides.

Nicole doesn’t bother pulling the covers down first. She escapes the sticky sweetness of Waverly’s lips long enough to tip her backwards onto the bed. 

They strip clumsily, almost frantically. Soon, Nicole’s shirt is somewhere on the floor, and Waverly’s skirt is dangling precariously off the edge of the mattress. Waverly’s breasts are too lovely to ignore, wrapped snug in cream colored lace, and so Nicole fills both hands with them as Waverly’s fingers fumble at her belt.

“No handcuffs tonight, Officer Haught?” Waverly mumbles, her lips still near enough for Nicole to feel their movement.

“Don’t need ‘em.” With a growl she doesn’t often make, and strength she doesn’t often use, Nicole seizes Waverly’s hands and yanks them away from her belt. She removes it herself, then holds the leather strip taut over Waverly’s wrists, pinning them above her head. It’s more a show of force than anything — Waverly can wriggle free if she wants to — but freedom seems to be the last thing on Waverly’s mind. She arches upward, rocking in search of contact.

A thought rises in Nicole’s mind, an image of flipping Waverly over onto her stomach and licking down her spine. So she does, lifting the belt only long enough to turn Waverly over and peel her pantines down past her ass one handed. Stretched between Waverly’s thighs, Nicole can see the wetness pooled in the fabric, the same wetness she’d felt with her fingers in the restaurant, only in much greater supply. She swallows thicky, her chest swelling with pride. Waverly is dripping for her.

“Please,” Waverly gasps, tilting her ass up at an oh-so-enticing angle and spreading her knees even wider. “Touch me.”

Nicole decides she’s waited long enough. Both of them have. She holds the belt in place with one hand and rakes the nails of her other hand up along Waverly’s thighs, leaving parallel pink lines before sliding two fingers past the tight red ring of Waverly’s entrance.

It’s both easy and difficult to slip inside. There’s plenty of slickness, but Waverly’s muscles clamp down hard, offering resistance and also greedy pulses. They simultaneously deny her while trying to suck her fingers deeper, and Nicole works them in to the knuckle, listening to Waverly’s whimpers for any signs of pain.

There are none, or if the pain exists, it’s in the service of a greater pleasure.

With well-earned confidence, Nicole does exactly what she’s wanted to do for all the days, weeks, months they’ve spent fighting for their lives. She fucks Waverly Earp raw, with passion and force she’s never trusted Waverly or herself enough to summon before, but with tender and devoted attention to detail.

She makes it her mission to learn the exact amount of leverage required to make Waverly shiver head-to-toe at her thrusts. She focuses on the sounds Waverly makes, and memorizes how to summon each one. Tightening the belt over Waverly’s wrists makes her rear stick up higher and her muscles squeeze harder. Tonguing the back of her neck earns delightful little pants and squeals that remind Nicole how uncomfortably sticky her own underwear is. She’d tear them off, if that didn’t require pulling out of Waverly, which she is completely unwilling to do.

“Baby, baby  _ please _ …”

Waverly’s whining becomes a muttered mantra, one that might sound embarrassing or pathetic out of context, but isn’t at all in the moment. Nicole takes her harder, determined to make Waverly ride the very edge, to fuck all the demons of Purgatory out of her and make her come so hard that part of her will still be here, spinning in this hotel room for days afterward.

“Please baby  _ please baby pleasebabyplease—” _

When Waverly’s mouth falls open and her face screws up in a wordless scream, Nicole knows she’s done it. She makes it her business to watch, even though Waverly is facing the other way, rumpling the perfectly straight comforter, drooling on one of the many bleached white pillowcases. The wild fluttering around her fingers is the cherry on the sundae. Waverly is clutching her fingers for everything, and Nicole curls them further into the shuddering silk of Waverly’s inner muscles, forcing out bursts of wetness that coat her flexing wrist.

It’s over too soon.

Hollowness settles in Nicole’s chest, making itself at home as Waverly slumps forward onto the bed. She wishes it hadn’t happened so quickly. She wishes it hadn’t ended at all. She gives a few more thrusts, hoping Waverly’s body will continue responding, and she can keep going — but it doesn’t. For the next few minutes, at least, she’s taken everything she can from Waverly Earp’s trembling body.

She removes the belt from Waverly’s wrists, noting that it has slid somewhat out of place in the midst of everything. It was a symbol more than an actual item of bondage, but it was effective, if the stars in Waverly’s eyes are any indication.

“Shit,” Waverly says, rolling onto her back once more.

Nicole laughs, a little sadly. Sometimes, she doesn’t know whether she’ll get cursing Waverly or ‘oh, fudge’ Waverly. Apparently, right now, it’s cursing Waverly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Waverly reaches out for her, still smiling. “Come here?”

Nicole shimmies out of her underwear, then falls into Waverly’s arms.

***

Nicole’s wistfulness is thick enough for Waverly to taste on her tongue. Her first instinct is to soothe, and so she does, running her hands over Nicole’s back and massaging the stiff muscles there. She knows what has happened. Nicole’s euphoria at being alive, at being in love, at  _ escaping _ the claustrophobic darkness of Purgatory has turned into something manic.

Waverly doesn’t want the woman she loves to feel that way. She isn’t ready to let go of the joy, of the freedom this night is offering. It’s not over, not yet.

Her wordless request is tender as she reverses their positions, urging Nicole to roll left and stretch out on her back. When Nicole looks up at her, dark pupils blown with confusion, lower lip shaking with longing, Waverly strokes back her red hair and kisses her, softer and slower than any of the other times so far that night.

_ Stay with me, _ she asks as her hands trace faint patterns of promise along Nicole’s sides.  _ Stay here. Stay  _ now. _ Don’t go back there yet. _

Gradually, Nicole responds to her touch, melting a little like wax around the flickering flame of a candle. Her tense muscles go smooth, releasing their ceaseless vibrations to the universe, and she exhales gratefully into Waverly’s mouth. At that sound, Waverly knows it’s time. It’s time to worship every inch of Nicole’s body, in order to piece the broken bits back together.

Her lips become acquainted with secret places. She kisses Nicole’s chin, her jawbone, the lobe of her ear. She lavishes attention on Nicole’s collarbone, not just the dip in the middle, or the spots near either shoulder, but the entire length between. She kisses circles around Nicole’s breasts, spiraling toward her nipples again and again before tonguing the tips to hardness, and then pauses to inhale at Nicole’s sternum in spite of the hand that has taken up residence on top of her head, trying to push her lower.

She goes slow. She takes her time. She kisses every freckle on Nicole’s stomach, which has the slightest layer of soft and inviting fat to cover the hard, well-developed abdominal muscles underneath. That is Nicole in a nutshell. Soft on the outside, strong in her core.

By the time she reaches Nicole’s navel, Nicole is begging. “Waves, please?” That ‘please’ isn’t broken or hopeless. It is  _ entranced. _ Nicole is back in the present instead of barrelling toward the future, and Waverly intends to keep her there for as long as possible, even if it means torturing her a little.

So Waverly heads back up and starts all over again.

She repeats the same pattern — chin and jaw, clavicle and sternum, stomach and hip bones — several times, until Nicole is a stripped wire crackling with sensation, rocking and mumbling without pause. Only then does Waverly duck beneath Nicole’s knees. Only then does she allow Nicole’s heels to dig into her upper back instead of the bed. Only then does she bring her mouth to the hot, dripping flesh between Nicole’s legs, which has been waiting so impatiently for her tongue.

Even then, she is slow. She takes her time. She mouths Nicole’s clit for a few moments only to avoid it afterward, allowing it to miss her. She thrusts her tongue past Nicole’s entrance, but only swirls briefly before retreating. There is so much to savor, and she has all night.

Nicole’s taste is slightly bitter, but in the best way possible. It is also, Waverly realizes, becoming familiar. She has done this enough times now to become accustomed to it — but being accustomed to it does not mean that she’s bored. Quite the opposite. She is fascinated by the slightest movements of Nicole’s body, by the glow the dim hotel lights cast on her pale skin, by the way it is splayed out before her, both vulnerable and strong. The muscles at Nicole’s opening soften, and Waverly is able to push more of her tongue in.

“Waves!”

This time, Nicole grabs her hair, and Waverly feels sorry for her. She knows it’s cruel to keep her hanging like this… but it might be crueler to let her go before she’s finished the ride. Then they both might go back to worrying. They might forget they’re drunk, in a strange city, in an unfamiliar hotel room, and think about the future. About when they’ll return to Purgatory, and to all their problems.

Then Waverly realizes  _ she’s _ wandering into the future — which is exactly what she hadn’t wanted Nicole to do. To bring herself back to the present, too, she sucks on Nicole’s clit, offering the consistent stimulation her lover needs to come.

Nicole goes rigid, but only for a moment. She croaks out something like Waverly’s name, then starts shuddering, fingers flexing on top of Waverly’s head. More wetness pours out of her, an ocean of it, and Waverly lets the brine spill into her mouth, moaning in approval. For this moment, they’re together, and everything is perfect.

It lasts a while, because Waverly puts in the effort to make sure it does. She wrings every bit of pleasure she can get from Nicole’s body, until Nicole’s skin is bathed in sweat, like a mare frothy from running. She shivers like one too, little ripples that shoot through random parts of her body, visible beneath the skin. Waverly smirks and licks her lips. She’s proud of herself for that.

She’s even prouder when Nicole reaches down and hauls her up to cuddle, wearing one of the dopiest smiles Waverly has ever seen plastered on her face. It’s obvious she’s  _ here, _ and Waverly allows herself to linger too, burying her wet chin in the hollow of Nicole’s throat and nuzzling for more of Nicole’s scent.

“I love you,” Nicole says, in a voice that is both shaking and sure.

Waverly kisses Nicole’s neck. “I love you too.”

_ In every reality, in every way. Through everything that’s happened, and through everything that’s going to happen. That’s how I love you, Nicole Haught. _

Waverly closes her eyes, promising herself that they will have more moments like this. They aren’t done living yet.


End file.
